Mortal Complication
by MsMarilynAdams
Summary: Kevin Izawa's life is perfect. He's on his own, writing for prestigious newspapers and has his whole life ahead of him. But one tragic night changes everything for him. Where will he go now that he's mutated? Will these new friends that resemble his current state really try to help him?


Kevin Izawa's laughter echoed through the empty dojo, the dark-haired 18-year-old hefting his duffel bag higher up on his shoulder.

"The fact that you think that you could even beat me in a challenge makes me laugh, GingerSnaps," he retorted into his cellphone as he stepped out of the building and onto the busy sidewalks of New York, the scoffing coming from the other end of the conversation making him smile.

April O'Neil, his only real friend, was trying to intimidate him. Maybe it was that he'd never known his childhood friend to be violent in any way but he just couldn't /not/ laugh at it. He maneuvered his duffel bag again, as she spoke.

"Well, are you still coming over to hang out with Me and Irma tonight?" she asked, sounds of things being pushed around coming in through the background.

"That depends, really. Is a certain asshole, wanna-be hockey star going to be there too?" the young man asked, making his way down the crowded sidewalk to the small music store where he was to pick up his recently fixed guitar.

There was silence on the other end of the line and Kevin groaned. "You know I don't get along with Casey, April. Last time I was around him, he tried to start something with me. I can't fight him, it's against my rules. You also know that if I come over there, he'll get butt hurt and try to attack me again," he said, his voice growing quieter as he entered the store, moving through the sparse customers to the counter.

Mr. Withal, the stores owner was standing behind the counter, all smiles and crinkly eyes. Seeing Kevin on the phone, he held up a hand and went to the back, leaving him at the counter. Kevin's pale gray eyes roamed over all the old instruments and song books. This was his second favorite place to be, besides his room where he wrote constantly on his laptop, typing out story after story in attempt to have perfect articles to submit to media stations.

A small group of girls passed by him, smiling and batting their lashes. He nodded, giving a half grin but not noticing them really. Kevin was a rather attractive man. At 18, he was 6'3' with broad shoulders, messy black hair and clear, gray eyes. His frame was strong and well muscled from all his years in the dojo, training in Ninjitsu and many other martial arts. He had his own apartment and a nearly new Suzuki GSX-R that he'd been saving for since he was 15.

Music was also a huge thing for him. He had mastered most of the string instruments, his favorites being the violin and guitar. Hence why he was a here, a popular haunt of his as he grew. April was talking about how Casey wouldn't start anything and even if he did, she was sure that Kevin would be able to hold his own against the punk.

"I don't want to fight him at all, April. You know I only use violence when I need too," he said, taking the black guitar case from Mr. Witham, whom had come back from the work room. Kevin laid the money down on the counter, mouthed a thank you with a grin, and turned, leaving the store and making his way to the parking garage where his motorcycle was.

April sighed on the other line. "Well, he's leaving at 7. Would you stop by after then? I feel like I haven't seen you in a billion years."

"More like a week," he said as he strapped his guitar case on the back of his Cycle. The tall young man stuffed his duffel bag securely in front of it before pulling his keys out of his pocket and sliding onto the bike himself.

"But yeah, I'll stop by. Tell Irma not to freak out too badly. But I have to go, getting ready to head back to the house. I'll see you guys in an hour or so, OK?"

"Cool! See you then!" She stated before hanging up. Kevin pressed a button on top of the phone, hanging up and making the screen lock before sliding the phone into the pocket of his leather jacket.

Once he was on the freeway, everything except the rush of adrenalin left him. Speeding and swerving in between the cars, the young man handle the bike with a cool expertise. System of A Down pounded through the head phone in his ears as his blood pounded through him. He cut across the freeway and pulled his bike to the left, tires screeching as he narrowly missed a moving van that he pulled in front of. The said van honked and issued a few curses at the teen. Kevin grinned and tore down the alley. He knew his way around NYC, drifting through the dirty passageways between the buildings.

After scaring the shit out of a few hobos and a couple of street walkers, he came out onto a side road that would lead to his apartment. He narrowed his eyes as he slowed down, an item in the road catching his attention. He stopped the bike at the side of the road and got off, walking over to see what the white and brown thing was crawling across the road.

"I'll be damned. It's an albino turtle," he spoke quietly, more to himself then anyone else. The little animal's shell was rimmed beautifully in black, the inside plates pure white, along with its skin. The turtle looked up at him with bright red eyes, not having a care in the world. Carefully, Kevin reached down and picked it up, the turtle quickly retreating inside his shell.

Kevin was still looking at his designs when the truck came screeching around the corner. A large black truck that was way to heavy to be making a turn like that. It tipped and started skidding right at the light pole next to Kevin's bike. Without thinking, he shoved the turtle in his jacket and darted for the bike.

Somehow, he managed to get hold of it and yank the heavy metal vehicle just out of the range of the van. When it hit the pole, it hit hard, the back doors getting crushed and pushed open. Green tubes came exploding out. Kevin managed to dodge most except for two that hit the back of his bare neck and his bare hand.

Suddenly, he was on fire. His skin burning and stretching. He screamed in pain, his bones snapping loudly and then reforming under his skin. He blacked out, twisting to the side as he fell so he would land on his back, one deformed, ooze covered hand still gripping the small lump in the front of his jacket.

The turtle waited for everything to stop before poking its pale head out of it shell and looking out of the jacket. It quickly yanked back in its shell. Four creatures were standing over the creature that had saved him. Four creatures that were a lot like the tiny turtle.


End file.
